Don't drink the water - expansion by Blackdawn & perfumedrose
by PerfumedRose
Summary: Based on chapter 107 of 365, not necessarily have read that one.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't drink the water – expansion**

 **Chapter 1**

Greg reached out his hand to the other side of the bed, his fingers grasping the smooth linen, he wasn't finding what he obviously looked for. He opened one eye then the other before he looked around the room.

"Love!" He called out, his voice thick with sleep. He heard some noise from the bathroom and smiled when he saw his partner walking out of the bathroom, already dressed and looking good, the only thing missing was the jacket and his suit. Greg smiled which Mycroft returned as he sat down on the edge of the bed putting on his shoes.

"It's so early, why are you up so early, you are not supposed to get up for another hour, which you spend 30 minutes to exercise, wake me up in bed with coffee, showering with me and then get ready." Greg moved so that he was leaning over with his head next to Mycroft, his feet on the pillows. Mycroft smirked at him looking all ruffled and sleepy.

"Is that a slight whine I detect in your voice?" He leaned to kiss Greg on his forehead, his hands ruffling in the silver strands.

"Noooo." Greg replied all smiles.

"Liar," Mycroft replied and moved to get up, Greg made an unhappy sound at that.

"So why are you up?"

"I need to go earlier into office the convention starts tomorrow and I need to make sure everything is going smoothly, you know how these politician's get," Greg smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, pompous arses, the whole lot of them." Greg tried to look so serious but the mirth was clearly there. Mycroft played along, all diplomatic.

"Yet, you are sleeping with one." Greg shrugged.

"I know, then again in my younger days I always tried to be a rebel."

"Oh, I've noticed." Mycroft stood in the doorway already as he looked at Greg moving back to the right side up on the bed, the blankets falling off his body. Mycroft shook his head.

"So... Will I see you tonight?" Greg asked.

"I hope so, maybe late tonight."

"Yeah, I hope I get some kind of breakthrough in this case. It is so weird." Greg seeing that Mycroft was getting a bit restless got out of the bed to follow him downstairs. Mycroft didn't say anything just followed him as they went.

"The poisoning one?"

"Yeah, two bodies so far, no link between them, besides the cause of death, it is as if the killer just chose two random people in the street and killed them." Both thought for a moment about the serial suicides some years ago but didn't mention it, they focused on the here and now.

"Did you ask Sherlock to have a look?"

"Borriinng! Hardly a four, really Lestrade..." Greg mimicked and Mycroft couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped his mouth, after several years, Greg's Sherlock voice has improved, he keeps hoping one day he will use it when his brother is in the room, just to see his reaction.

"I'm sorry, maybe his interest will change, has the media caught scent of these murders?"

"No, and I just shiver when they do especially the Daily Fail."

"Mail." Mycroft corrected. Greg tried to look surprised.

"We get mail here?" Mycroft just gave him a look that would make lesser people step away, Greg just smiled innocently at him. Mycroft just can't win with this man.

"I wish I could help you with this, but the convention..." Mycroft tried but Greg stopped him with a kiss.

"I know Love, you go save England and I'll go solve this okay?"

"Okay."

Mycroft moved to the front door his umbrella waiting to be lifted.

"Oh Love, we haven't talked yet about this weekend."

"This weekend?" Mycroft tried to ponder the statement, did he miss anything.

"It's our five-year anniversary."

"Oh. Gregory, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot. Maybe we can go and have dinner or something?"

"Yeah... Sure...we can always.."

"Not know my dearest, I'm too busy now, we can discuss this later." And with that Mycroft left the house, leaving Greg in the foyer, looking down and sad. Five years and Mycroft forgot. It should be celebrated. Still, he was busy with an international convention, so what if they have been together for five years, nowhere near as important as saving the world. With his shoulders slumped he made his way to the kitchen, might as well make some coffee to start the day.

Mycroft waited till he was in the car when he allowed himself a smile and picked up the phone. He dialed and Anthea picked up on the first ring.

"Sir?"

"Ten o'clock we should go check on the progress of the objects and I need to confirm our weekend away plans. Make sure there are no appointments during that time."

"Will do sir, see you at the office."

Cutting the call he looked down to his hand, his left hand with no jewelry, his right index finger traced the ring finger and he smiled, by the weekend he and Greg will have no more bare left hands. It was going to be such a beautiful surprise.

By the end of the day Greg was exhausted, there was no new information and just before he could get home, they found another body. The third one. He was too tired to think of anything else and when he got home Mycroft wasn't there, taking a quick shower he got in bed. Mycroft joined him and hour later and they didn't talk, both too tired. They just held each other as they tried to get some rest and recharge their bodies for another day.

When Greg woke up, Mycroft was already gone and he was already wishing the day over. He knows he will need to go to Baker Street to get Sherlock's help. He just wants the case gone and Mycroft with him for the weekend at this stage he doesn't need to have some big anniversary celebration, he just wants Mycroft and hides from the world for a day or two.

Getting up he made sure he had a copy of the file to take to Baker street, if he has to beg, so be it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't drink the water – expansion**

 **Chapter 1**

Greg reached out his hand to the other side of the bed, his fingers grasping the smooth linen, he wasn't finding what he obviously looked for. He opened one eye then the other before he looked around the room.

"Love!" He called out, his voice thick with sleep. He heard some noise from the bathroom and smiled when he saw his partner walking out of the bathroom, already dressed and looking good, the only thing missing was the jacket and his suit. Greg smiled which Mycroft returned as he sat down on the edge of the bed putting on his shoes.

"It's so early, why are you up so early, you are not supposed to get up for another hour, which you spend 30 minutes to exercise, wake me up in bed with coffee, showering with me and then get ready." Greg moved so that he was leaning over with his head next to Mycroft, his feet on the pillows. Mycroft smirked at him looking all ruffled and sleepy.

"Is that a slight whine I detect in your voice?" He leaned to kiss Greg on his forehead, his hands ruffling in the silver strands.

"Noooo." Greg replied all smiles.

"Liar," Mycroft replied and moved to get up, Greg made an unhappy sound at that.

"So why are you up?"

"I need to go earlier into office the convention starts tomorrow and I need to make sure everything is going smoothly, you know how these politician's get," Greg smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, pompous arses, the whole lot of them." Greg tried to look so serious but the mirth was clearly there. Mycroft played along, all diplomatic.

"Yet, you are sleeping with one." Greg shrugged.

"I know, then again in my younger days I always tried to be a rebel."

"Oh, I've noticed." Mycroft stood in the doorway already as he looked at Greg moving back to the right side up on the bed, the blankets falling off his body. Mycroft shook his head.

"So... Will I see you tonight?" Greg asked.

"I hope so, maybe late tonight."

"Yeah, I hope I get some kind of breakthrough in this case. It is so weird." Greg seeing that Mycroft was getting a bit restless got out of the bed to follow him downstairs. Mycroft didn't say anything just followed him as they went.

"The poisoning one?"

"Yeah, two bodies so far, no link between them, besides the cause of death, it is as if the killer just chose two random people in the street and killed them." Both thought for a moment about the serial suicides some years ago but didn't mention it, they focused on the here and now.

"Did you ask Sherlock to have a look?"

"Borriinng! Hardly a four, really Lestrade..." Greg mimicked and Mycroft couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped his mouth, after several years, Greg's Sherlock voice has improved, he keeps hoping one day he will use it when his brother is in the room, just to see his reaction.

"I'm sorry, maybe his interest will change, has the media caught scent of these murders?"

"No, and I just shiver when they do especially the Daily Fail."

"Mail." Mycroft corrected. Greg tried to look surprised.

"We get mail here?" Mycroft just gave him a look that would make lesser people step away, Greg just smiled innocently at him. Mycroft just can't win with this man.

"I wish I could help you with this, but the convention..." Mycroft tried but Greg stopped him with a kiss.

"I know Love, you go save England and I'll go solve this okay?"

"Okay."

Mycroft moved to the front door his umbrella waiting to be lifted.

"Oh Love, we haven't talked yet about this weekend."

"This weekend?" Mycroft tried to ponder the statement, did he miss anything.

"It's our five-year anniversary."

"Oh. Gregory, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot. Maybe we can go and have dinner or something?"

"Yeah... Sure...we can always.."

"Not know my dearest, I'm too busy now, we can discuss this later." And with that Mycroft left the house, leaving Greg in the foyer, looking down and sad. Five years and Mycroft forgot. It should be celebrated. Still, he was busy with an international convention, so what if they have been together for five years, nowhere near as important as saving the world. With his shoulders slumped he made his way to the kitchen, might as well make some coffee to start the day.

Mycroft waited till he was in the car when he allowed himself a smile and picked up the phone. He dialed and Anthea picked up on the first ring.

"Sir?"

"Ten o'clock we should go check on the progress of the objects and I need to confirm our weekend away plans. Make sure there are no appointments during that time."

"Will do sir, see you at the office."

Cutting the call he looked down to his hand, his left hand with no jewelry, his right index finger traced the ring finger and he smiled, by the weekend he and Greg will have no more bare left hands. It was going to be such a beautiful surprise.

By the end of the day Greg was exhausted, there was no new information and just before he could get home, they found another body. The third one. He was too tired to think of anything else and when he got home Mycroft wasn't there, taking a quick shower he got in bed. Mycroft joined him and hour later and they didn't talk, both too tired. They just held each other as they tried to get some rest and recharge their bodies for another day.

When Greg woke up, Mycroft was already gone and he was already wishing the day over. He knows he will need to go to Baker Street to get Sherlock's help. He just wants the case gone and Mycroft with him for the weekend at this stage he doesn't need to have some big anniversary celebration, he just wants Mycroft and hides from the world for a day or two.

Getting up he made sure he had a copy of the file to take to Baker street, if he has to beg, so be it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't drink the water - expansion**

Chapter 3

Overall it took ten minutes from the moment that Mycroft fell to the ground for the paramedics to get to him and do their thing to keep him alive. Another three minutes to stabilize him and two to get him to the ambulance, five minutes to get him to the A&E at Bart's, when the ambulance arrived Greg was already waiting, Sherlock and John standing behind him. All three worried all three pale. While the nurses were trying to keep Mycroft alive, Sherlock spends three minutes telling the doctor the chemical compositions of the poison and what to expect. What antidote could work and what to look out for. All in all twenty-three minutes. To Greg, it was twenty-three hours and Anthea silently agreed.

The poison was so effective, so strong and so highly concentrated that the only reason that he didn't die in the first five minutes was because Anthea made his body rejected it by throwing up. Another hour of waiting past where they waited for the doctors to do their thing before anyone could see him. Anthea was on the phone with everyone, that needed to be informed, every agency that was part of the contingency plan, with the PR department to contain it as much as they could. The news already got a whiff of it, and it was part of the 'Breaking news' on every channel. Greg stared at the screen as he saw it, it was chaos. London was in turmoil, there were theories from terrorist attacks to alien abduction, all of them crazier than the other.

Greg looked at the figure on the bed, he has never seen Mycroft so small, timid and weak and it was crushing him. He buried his head in hand as the tears threaten to fall. His right hand was bandaged. He remembered the moment time stopped for him:

Their happiness at seeing the doctor was short lived, yes Mycroft was alive but it didn't look good. They need to prepare for the worse, his body was trying but his changes were less than 10%. So far he is the only one who got in contact with the poison to still be alive. So far seven people have died, all within the hour. Lady Smallwood was one of them. They stared at the doctor, both unable to speak when Greg suddenly clenched his fists. His body started to vibrate with anger and rage when he turned to Sherlock. Sherlock could see the pain the anger and knew exactly what Greg was thinking, he was thinking the exact same thing and was waiting for this moment. Greg's eyes filled with tears as he pulled his arm back and put all his pain on the strength of his arm to punch Sherlock. Sherlock stood still but the impact threw him off his balance and he staggered before he fell down on the floor. The doctor and John pulled him back, tried to restrain him as he lost it. Anthea stood in the far corner, still on the phone as she watched and listened. She gasped when Greg hit Sherlock, her eyes big.

"Five!" Greg yelled the whole corridor stupefied as they watch the display.

"It was just a five, not nearly interesting enough for the great Sherlock Holmes." Greg's voice dripped with the hatred, the pain of knowing his whole world is about to fall apart. Mycroft is going to die, most likely, unless they get one hell of a miracle. If Sherlock only decided to help sooner, this could all have been prevented. Sherlock sat on the floor, trying to stem the blood from his cheek, Greg's fist broke the skin. He looked at Greg like a broken ragged doll, taking the words because he knew it was the truth. His brother is going to die and he didn't try to stop it.

All the fight left Greg and he sagged against John.

"He's dying Sherlock... He's dying...I can't lose. I can't..." Sherlock moved to Greg grabbing him by his shirt.

"He will not die." He growled out, but Greg shook his head.

"Don't give up on him. Don't you dare." Greg looked down, and then he finally gave a small nod. Sherlock let go and stepped back. The doctor stepped in between them.

"Listen, the first 48 hours now is crucial, if he survives that, he stands a chance." They didn't acknowledge him and Greg just asked to see him.

Greg looked up from his hands to the man on the bed, no change, but he didn't know if it was good or bad, he just know that he isn't dead yet.

Five hours.

He has been alive for five hours now, only forty-three to go. One day and nineteen hours. It is going to be the longest in his entire existence in his life.

He was alone and deep in thought when the door slightly opened and a knock sounded. He looked up to see Anthea.

"May I come in?" She whispered.

"Of course. Please." Giving him a slight smile she walked into the room carrying a small overnight bag. She put it down against the wall. He eyed it as if it was about to attack him.

"Some clean clothes, two pairs, toiletries, phone charger and...and that book you and he loved to read from." He swallowed down the knot in his throat. He knows what book she was talking about. The book with John Keats poetry, they would always read each other poems from there.

"Thank you." His voice was thick and she didn't comment on that instead she pointed to the other bag in her hand, it contained some food.

"I brought some food too, I was thinking of sitting here with you, just a small break, outside...London...everything..." She looked to the window and Greg knew what she meant, it was a nightmare out there, but his nightmare was in here. She wanted just a moment, which he completely understands, the food was for both their benefits, neither felt like eating, the escape, was just so she could have a moment of peace and quiet.

"Stay as long as you would like. Here take this seat, it is more comfortable." He got up and pointed it to her making his way to the bag and taking out his charger. Plugging it in he sat down on the other chair close to Mycroft. She smiled softly before unpacking the containers, it was good food, she got it from a restaurant, not a takeaway. They sat there in silence, nibbling the food, their eyes on Mycroft.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to him sooner." He could hear the pain and blame in her voice and he couldn't understand why.

"what are you talking about?"

"I was across the room when he fell, if I was next to him, standing with him..."

"Hey hey, stop that. This is not your fault. You got to him in seconds. The only reason he is still alive at this moment is because you made him throw up the water. If anyone is to blame it is me."

"why?" She looked up at him.

"Because if I solved it earlier if I was smarter and if I forced Sherlock sooner..."

"Stop." her voice was strong but not loud. He glances at her.

"We need to stop with this self-blame, we did what we could, you were right, we did everything we could. We prepared for a terrorist attack, but not the method it was used. You did all you could, and Sherlock, yes I'm very angry with him, but out of all of us, he is the one who will blame himself, no matter what we say, because as human as we are, he has to live with the fact that if he wasn't so egotistical, this may have been sooner and the price he is paying is expensive enough." Greg looked away, fresh tears falling down his face as he looked at his hand, she was right. Out of all of them, Sherlock has the most self-blame but that doesn't mean he has to forgive him. Mycroft is so close to dying, that the only reason he isn't dead yet, is because he is using his diplomatic skills on the Grim Reaper and the negations are tuff. He chokes something between a laugh and sob at that image. He looked back at her. He just nodded. She packed up the containers.

"I need to go, I wish I could stay but the parliament is in chaos and I need to keep Mycroft's assets and plans in order. I'm his second in his field. I'll come by tomorrow."

"Take care, and take a breather okay?" Greg tried and stood up as she made her way out. Just before she opened the door he took her by the arm and pulled her into a hug.

She hugged him back before she let go. He watches her as she left, her phone once again in her hand making calls. Keeping Mycroft safe.

Greg was hardly alone with him for ten minutes when the doctor and nurses came back to check on his progress, there were no improvements, but there were no declining either. It was a standstill of some sort. Seven hours. He has been alive and fighting for seven hours but no one is getting their hopes up, not until the forty-eight hour has come and gone. They were still giving him oxygen as they have no idea whether the poison damaged his respiratory system.

With them finally gone and Greg alone again he took out the book and got as comfortable as possible next to Mycroft in the chair, Mycroft's hand was cold when he touched it.

"You have to keep fighting Love, they say your chances are less than 10%. You can beat those odds, you have too. They say I must prepare for the worse and I don't want to. How do you prepare for your life to stop? Please prove them wrong. Please. Will it help if I read to you? Will my voice somehow find you, wherever you are and bring you back to me? It's our favorite book. Keats, you made me appreciate his work, every time we would snuggle and read to one another. If you are hearing me, hearing this, know this. Fight back."

I can not exist without you.

I forget about everything but to see you:

my life seems to stop there,

I look ahead.

You've me absorbed.

Right now I have a feeling as to dissolve:

I would be very sad without hope to see you soon.

I'd be afraid to break away from you.

You have stolen away the 'soul with a power that I can not resist;

and yet I could resist till I saw you;

and also since I have seen I tried often to reason

against the reasons for my love.

Now I am no longer capable.

It would be too great a penalty.

My love is selfish.

I can not breathe without you.

The more he read the more he cried, he hasn't cried like this in years, shutting the book he leaned over the bed, his hands holding Mycroft's

"Please...I can't live without you...we still have so much to do...so many places we have to go to...besides tomorrow is our fifth anniversary, you can't leave me alone in life all by myself after the best five years of my life. you cannot die to leave me alone, I'm not going to remain here alone, My, not without you anymore. I would follow you everywhere.. so you'd better stay here with me...you know I should have to ask you a date the first time I met you, when you kidnapped me the first time, I shouldn't have wasted all those years around you, if I only took the chance.. if you only would have given me a sign... we didn't waste our time.. time, do we have still time, my love? I promise you I will leave the yard, so you would never have to worry about me, I could be a detective consultant like your brother, oh you know, I think I ruined his sweet face punching him.. well it doesn't matter at the moment.. or better a consultant for the court they need a good one.. everything you want, but please love, wake up..."

Greg kept talking to him, begging him to stay alive, to keep fighting it was around one in the morning when he finally fell asleep out of pure exhaustion.

It was just after two in the morning when Greg jolted awake, the shrill sounds of the monitors screaming loud in the room, he hardly had time to figure out what was wrong when he was pushed out the door by the nurses. They were screaming he heard 'v-vib' and 'defibrillator' but had no idea what it meant, the only thing he did know was that it was serious, that his world was busy to implode on himself

When he heard 'CPR' he knew exactly what that meant and tried to say anything to yell but no sound came out. He watched them.

"Greg!" Someone yelled and he turned around to see Sherlock and John stepping out of the lifts. They ran towards him.

"What happened?"

"Don't know...he was fine, then the monitors...I don't... John.." he cried out. John pushed Greg towards Sherlock and ran to the open door. Greg turned to Sherlock and saw his pale face, the worry lines the redness in his eyes, the big blueish purple bruise on his cheek and looked down to see the wetness on the floor. They brought tea but in the run, Sherlock dropped it, three paper cups was scattered across the floor, the milky white tea a puddle on the floor. John watched for a few minutes then came back out.

"He went into cardiac arrest. They are doing what is called a cardiac massage, they are trying to restart his heart.

Greg just heard restart his heart. His heart stopped, as in no beat, not working and they are trying to restart it, to get it to beat again. His legs gave out under him when Sherlock's arms wrapped around him, keeping him up.

"I'm losing him.." Greg choked out. Sherlock pulled him to the chair letting him down on it. Greg leaned forward, his head in his hands as his body shook with his silent sobs. Sherlock and John stood there next to him, looking down and neither having any idea how to comfort him.

It was several minutes when the nurses left one by one taking some trolley with machines with them. They waited till they were gone when Greg stood up and made his way back to the door. The doctor came out and looked at them. It has been fourteen hours since it all happened and Mycroft is still alive, still, the only one who got into contact with the poison who made it. Thirty-four hours to go, and in all honesty, he was surprised that Mycroft lasted this long before he went into cardiac arrest. He looked towards Greg before speaking.

"We had to restart by means internal cardiac massage, we also gave him an intracardiac epi, and fortunately, we were able to resuscitate him. You can enter now. His chances are still not good, but he looks like a real fighter, I'll come by in a couple hours. Good luck and good night. Greg nodded and watched him leave, he has never been a very religious man, and he isn't about to start now, but what if he was to start praying, he will pray to every single deity out there to keep Mycroft alive. He watched his partner from the doorway, he looked smaller, weaker and paler, but still alive. John took him by the arm.

"I know you want to go in, but let's get you clean up, a warm shower and different clothes, and you can sit with him again, you will need your strength later on."

"I don't want to leave him alone." Greg replied, he knew he looked like a wreck but he couldn't leave Mycroft alone, not now."

"He won't be alone." Greg turned to Sherlock and nodded. Sherlock needed time with his brother, the guilt is still visible and Greg didn't have the energy to be angry anymore. He just nodded and picked up the back. John followed him. Greg didn't need a babysitter but was still glad for some company.

When Greg was finished and went back to the room Sherlock stood up.

"There was no change."

"You're leaving?" Greg asked as he moved past Sherlock.

"Your place is inside, at the moment mine is outside, I'm helping Anthea to track down whoever is responsible. The Yard is also involved. John will stay here with you. I would...please.."

"I'll call you if there is any chance, regardless if it is good or bad." Sherlock nodded and turned around walking away. John turned to Greg. The family room is just down here, the second door on your left, I'll be there if you need me."

"Thanks." Greg walked back into the room. Mycroft look whiter than the bed sheets and it hurt Greg to look at that, his eyes were sunken, with dark blue and purple shadows. Instead of the oxygen, there was a tube down his throat helping him breathe, but that was okay Greg decided, it meant he was breathing. He sat down again, his eyes caught the London sky outside, it was dawn and London were waking up, the sky turning brighter. It was their anniversary. Five years. He leaned over and kissed Mycroft's clammy forehead.

"Happy anniversary Love."

He made himself comfortable, his hand cradling Mycroft's he wasn't going to fall asleep, he was asleep when Mycroft had the heart attack, he wasn't going to sleep until he wakes up.

The doctor came back as he promised at six, he looked over Mycroft's vitals, it was still the same, and right now, the same was good enough. As the doctor left John came inside, he had a cup of coffee in his hand and a sandwich.

"Here."

"I'm not hungry," Greg replied and John still handed it to him.

"I know, you are still going to eat it."

"I'm not in the mood to eat."

"That's a relief because eating is not a mood. It is a requirement. Your body requires nutrients and fuel to function and you need to keep your strength up for when Mycroft wakes up." Greg didn't have a come back for that and instead took a sip, it was good, strong and sweet and good. He took another sip before he started on the sandwich.

"Have you heard from Sherlock again?"

"No, last I heard they were at some safe house that the killer used."

"You want to be there don't you, with him?"

"Yes. But he needs to know that his family is taken care off, he should not worry about me on the hunt as well, besides you need me now more."

"I'll be okay."

"No, you won't the refusal to eat proved that. Also when you're done you are going to that family room, the sofa in the right corner, is very comfortable, slept like a baby, what is exactly you are going to do."

"I'm not leaving."

"You haven't slept in two days, you need it, even if it is just four hours. I promise you I will call you when he wakes up."

"if." John leaned forward.

"Stop it. He is, hasn't the last few hours proved to you how strong he is? He will wake up, and the fact that you are so negative just proves to me how tired you really are, otherwise you will never say such stupid things. No, go get some sleep." Greg sighed and slowly stood up, he was tired, he was beyond tired. He looked at Mycroft one last time before he made his way out of the room to the family room. He hardly sat down on the sofa when he fell asleep, his body giving in to the rest.

When Greg woke up Sherlock was sitting on the other sofa, staring at something against the wall, his hands folded under his chin. Greg looked around before talking.

"What time is it?" he sat up straight rubbing his eyes, he was still tired but felt much better.

"2 o'clock.2 Greg's eyes widen he was asleep for nearly seven hours.

"Why didn't you wake me sooner, what about Mycroft, who is with him, is there any change?" Greg jumped up ready to leave.

"Sit down," Sherlock commanded and Greg wanted to say something but sat down again.

"Anthea is with him. John went home to rest and clean up, he will be back shortly."

"Anthea?...Does this mean..." Sherlock nodded.

"We got him, he is in protective custody. Unfortunately." He looked truly disgusted with the idea and Greg allowed himself a small smile. He shares the sentiment.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock's voice was soft and uncertain and Greg leaned closer to hear it. Sherlock looked tired, the bruise a big contrast against the pale of his skin.

Sherlock looked away before continuing.

"I never...this...I should have listened to you, but my ego got in the way...I should've helped you from the start...and I am better since I met you...but...sometimes...I need you to remind me of this...that I can make mistakes...that I can make bad decisions."

"I...I don't think we'll have a chance..anymore.." Greg whispered, he accepted the apology for what it was. Sherlock opened his coat and took out a small box from the inner pocket, he leaned forward on the chair.

"When I was on the crime scene I received I call from the family jeweler, he was waiting for Mycroft to collect something he ordered. I'm sorry Greg, as Anthea would confirm you, my brother had something interesting plan for today. I have to go now, I shouldn't' t let your sergeant Donovan take all the credit to have kicked the murderer down." he gave Greg the little box and went away. Greg eyed the little box and with his hands shaking he opened the lid to see two matching gold bands.

Sherlock who had watched from the doorway say the way Greg gasped and then burst out crying. He closed the door to give him some privacy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't drink the water – expansion**

 **Chapter 4**

Half done, half to go. Mycroft somehow manage to stay alive for twenty-four hours now, to everyone else, it seemed like days, weeks and months. The doctors were surprised that he only had one heart attack so far, it was clear they expected more. To be fair, they expected him to be dead by now. In the morgue with a little white sheet over him. This was a welcome surprise to everyone. John and Sherlock tried to tell him that this was good, that the worse is over, but it is not. It would be over when he wakes up, no sooner, no later. When those pale eyelids with the dark auburn lashes flutter open, that's when Greg would dare to hope. One sister said the signs look good and Greg was tempted to ask what signs but didn't.

Because of London still in some lock down it was difficult for his parents to come back. Heathrow had cancelled all flights until further notice. The murderer may be caught, but the Secret Service was still on high alert and preparing for a possible retaliation or any other attack, since it was weak.

Just like before Greg was forced to eat by Anthea or John or whoever was in the room with him at the time. He didn't even try to put up a fuss as it would be on no use. Ever since Sherlock gave him the rings he hasn't talked to anyone, so to put up a fuss would require talking which he wasn't going to do. At all.

What must he say? Gee thanks for telling me Mycroft was going to propose and now instead of choosing a suit to get married in, I might have to choose a suit to bury him with? Oh wow, thanks the shiny golden rings are going to look so shiny against the pale bed sheets.

Instead he sat there, the rings around his pinkie finger, his other hand holding Mycroft's John came and went and was currently with Sherlock sitting outside, they would come in every hour or so for a few minutes before leaving again.

Anthea was silent, busy on her phone making arrangements, saving London and trying to find a way to get Mycroft's parents here sooner. So far no luck. Greg glanced at the rings before looking at Anthea again, he wondered what the plans were for Mycroft to propose, were they going to have dinner, a walk in the park, he was curious but if he wanted to know, he needed to talk.

He cleared his throat.

"Anthea?" His voice was raw from exhaustion, crying and the lack of use. She put her phone down and gave him her attention.

"Uh..mm... The rings...Sherlock said Mycroft had plans..."

"Yes. He has been planning it a few weeks now."

"What were they?" He stumbled out his eyes were so red and bloodshot.

"He made plans for the both of you; you would've left London last night after the convention, the destination Edinburgh. He planned for the both of you to spend today in the city, sightseeing and visiting some old pubs and museums until this afternoon where he was going to propose on top of the Carlton Hill this late afternoon, he was going for the romantic sunset look." Greg listened his mind providing him with images of them walking down the street, hand in hand, the rings in Mycroft's inner pocket, he could see them clearly standing on that hill, the town around them, the sunset in the distance, he could see the wind in Mycroft's hair, the unruly curl he hated but Greg loved. He could see the hesitation in his stormy blue eyes as he takes the rings out. It was so clear, so vivid so not happening right now as it should and he fell forward, his head on the bed, his shoulders shaking with his tears. Anthea closed her eyes, she could feel the pain radiating of Greg and it was breaking her heart. She looked at Mycroft, oblivious to the real world as he was fighting for his life in some world they couldn't go to. She willed him to wake up, to be strong to get through this, because it was clear to see that his life is not the only one hanging in balance. She stood up and made her way to the door, Greg needed some time alone. Stepping outside she looked into Sherlock's and John's eyes, they overheard her, and they felt with her the pain that was so strong in that room.

"How about coffee?" She asked. They nodded and followed her down the hallway to the nearest shop.

When Greg finally lifted his head, he was officially out of tears; he cradled Mycroft's hand kissing the knuckles.

"You planned this wonderful anniversary and I was upset, I thought you forgot, I was an idiot, you would never forget something like that, you know everything. I wanted a memorable anniversary; this is not what I had in mind. I never, not once thought it would be the day I might lose you. I can't lose you, you can't go, not today, not tomorrow, not for a long time, not when you planned this." He lifted his left hand where the two rings were. He looked at back at Mycroft's hand then to his face. He stood up and reaches over to his left hand. He took one ring from his finger and slipped it on Mycroft's hand, he has lost so much weight in these past few hours that the ring was a size to big. Still, it looked good; it looked like his hand was made for that ring. Regardless of the pale nearly translucent skin, or the brightness of the gold. It was perfect. Greg looked out the window, it was late afternoon. Instead of overlooking a Scotland Hill, he was looking at London, instead of a sunset with smiles and tears of joy, it was tears of grief. Time can really be cruel sometimes. Greg kissed Mycroft's hand and put it back down; sitting back he pulled the ring from his pinkie and slides it on his ring finger. He took Mycroft's right back in his, making sure that Mycroft's fingers are between his.

"Feel that love? That is your ring on my finger, now wake up so I can say yes."

Greg must have fallen asleep as it was already dark when he woke up, there was a smell of coffee in the air and he lifted his head. John was sitting on the chair opposite him, drinking a coffee. John eyed him and lifted at one of those mugs flask things.

"Thought you might like warm coffee instead of cold one, those travel mugs are amazing." Greg took the mug from John.

"Thanks." He opened the mug and took a sip. It was good. John look down to the ring on Mycroft's finger and on Greg's, he knew what Greg did, with some things you don't need to be a Holmes, he is however not going to say anything, most certainly not 'congrats'. He will wait 'till Mycroft wakes up and the danger has passed.

"Where are Sherlock and Anthea?" Greg asked, his coffee nearly finish, he was quite thirsty apparently.

"To pick up Mycroft's parents."

"I thought Heathrow were closed?"

"Anthea." John replied as if it that solved everything and by the smile on Greg's face, it did.

"Plus, I was thinking that maybe I can keep watch and you can go and have a quick shower before they get here?" John didn't mention that as an order but they both knew it will give Greg some time to get his composure right and some sense of control back. Greg sighed and nodded.

"Yeah. I'll be right back."

"I'll be here." As Greg passed the bed he put his hand on John's shoulder.

"John." John smiled at him.

"I know, and you're welcome." Greg went to the bathroom to shower; he must at least try to look presentable. He wonders if they are going to say anything about the engagement. The shower was a very good idea, he almost felt like a new person when he got out there, he shaved as well, as he was really sporting some impressive hair on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror, the ring on his hand, he never thought he would get a chance to wear a ring on his finger again, but he definitely knows this ring would not part with his finger until the day he die.

Walking back to Mycroft's room he couldn't help but feeling more positive, whether it was the shower, the coffee or what, he was just more optimistic. Mycroft has been alive for thirty-five hours now and has thirteen to go. He beat odds at one hour, tip the scales at twelve, bedazzled the doctors at twenty-four and now with the last stretch he will allow the smallest inklings of hope to form, a small tea light candle under a paper cup against the storm.

John was exactly where he said he will be when Greg came back in the room, he looked at Greg.

"You look so much better."

"I feel better. Any change?"

He looked at Mycroft to see that there was no longer a tube in his throat, just the oxygen cannula.

"Yes, the doctor was here, Mycroft started to breath on his own so they removed the tube. Also his heartbeat has improved, it is stronger now, and he passed urine for the first time and about five minutes ago." Greg eyed the bag and where it was empty; there was a dark brown liquid.

"Why is it so dark?"

"His kidneys are struggling more to function, a little bleeding is to be expected, the fact that it is working is very good." Greg breathed in and out as he tried to keep from screaming, crying or anything. The tea light candle just became a small globe. John's phone rang.

"It's Sherlock, they are probably here, I'm going to meet them and tell them."

"Yeah yeah go." Greg waved him away, sitting down on his seat, cradling Mycroft's hand.

"Love? John says there's a small change, you keep fighting you hear, it is still our anniversary."

The twitch was small Mycroft's index finger twirled around Greg's ring finger. Greg eyed his hand, his breath caught in his throat. He stood up, to lean in Mycroft's space.

"Love?"

This time his eyes moved under the lids. It hasn't' moved since this started. Greg stared at him, biting his lip.

"Come on Love. Please." The lids slowly opened and closed again, he did it a few times before opening for real. Greg was crying he didn't know he still had tears left.

"My?" He softly asked and the blue eyes focused on his. He could feel his hand being squeezed.

"Oh, it is so good to see you." Greg choked out between tears. He wiped them away, smiling at Mycroft. Mycroft eyes frowned as his index finger felt something strange. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out. Greg looked down and lifted his hands, Mycroft's still in his. Mycroft's eyes widen as he saw the ring before his eyes filled with tears. Greg picked up his left hand.

"Anthea told me everything, Sherlock gave me this, and I didn't want to lose them so I put them where they belong. Happy anniversary Love." Mycroft tried squeezing but his energy was drained, he looked at Greg, as two tears slid down his eyes. Greg could see the emotions in them; he knew what Mycroft was thinking and kissed him. Greg wiped the tears with his thumb. He mouthed the words 'I love you'

"I love you too, now get some sleep, and get better. I will be here."

Mycroft head moved slightly as if to nod before his eyes close again. Greg sat back, smiling and for the first time since the whole incident he was crying for joy.


End file.
